


somebody pinch me

by patriciaselina



Category: Exit Tunes Presents ACTORS (Album)
Genre: Best Friends, Comedy, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gen, Love Confessions, Lunch Dates, M/M, Rare Fandoms, Social Experiments, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2015-05-11
Packaged: 2018-03-30 00:42:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3916834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patriciaselina/pseuds/patriciaselina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“Aw, don’t be like that, Seijun,” Kouya says, both his arms around his friend’s neck this time, a normal squeezing hug if not for how one of his hands inch closer and closer to where he knows human ears – <strong>Seijun’s</strong> ears – are supposed to be. “You <strong>know</strong> you love me!”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>...<br/>In which Kouya – subconsciously – plays a dangerous game, and Seijun keeps winning at every turn. Or, more concisely, a five-month love story.<br/>Belated happy birthday (5/5/15), Kouya Ashihara.</p>
            </blockquote>





	somebody pinch me

**Author's Note:**

> _i don’t wanna ruin what we have – love is so unpredictable_
> 
> _but it’s the risk that I’m taking, hoping, praying – you’d fall in love with your best friend._
> 
> **[WATTPAD LINK.](http://www.wattpad.com/story/39463552-somebody-pinch-me) **

**January 23, 14:25**

 

If this ever lands him in court, Kouya would decide to put credit where credit is due and lay all blame on Enjouji-kun.

“The other day,” Enjouji says, his head resting on one of his hands, “Something got into Chiguma’s eye, and Kai and I had to help him get it out.”

“I...don’t really see how this is interesting, Enjouji-kun,” Kouya admits, tapping the end of his pen against his little notebook. “Yeah, I’d asked you about what you guys did during club hours, but...I was hoping for something more, like, you guys finding _gold_ in the school grounds, or ancient swords, or, or hell, even skeletons wearing _samurai_ armor!”

(There’s a slight chill that passes through Mike’s spine when Ashihara says the word ‘ _skeleton_ ’, but thankfully for him, Ashihara’s eagle eyes don’t catch that. If he did that’d probably get on one of his broadcasts, and Kai, the _idiot_ , would _never_ let him get over it. It would be so _annoying_.)

“Trust me, Ashihara-kun, if we’d found any of those you’d be the first to know,” Enjouji says, smiling that soft smile that apparently turns the soccer club’s cute manager’s knees into unset jelly. “Especially knowing how... _ardently_ you take your job. But we didn’t see any of those things that day, no. What we did see, though...was what _both_ of Chiguma’s eyes looked like.”

“!!! What – seriously –” Kouya’s eyes just light up, and he finds himself thinking _Seijun would have loved to see that, wouldn’t he_ before he grips his pen harder and takes down notes in earnest. (What, it was a slow news day, okay!?) “What did he look like?”

“Like a friggin’ _dork_ ,” Enjouji says, his airy voice suddenly dipping into a deeper register Kouya hasn’t heard from him often. There’s something about the curl of Enjouji’s smile – _smirk_ , that’s a _smirk_ he’s doing right now, huh? – that reminds Kouya of scary things but it’s not exactly addressed to Kouya himself so he thinks it’s nothing, just one of Enjouji’s many quirks. His classmate had _always_ been a mysterious one. “He was squinting the entire time – apparently his other eye wasn’t used to not seeing through his hair, as ridiculous as that sounds.”

“I wonder if Mitsuki- _senpai_ ’s right eye isn’t used to light, either...” Kouya’s voice trails off. He can feel the words rushing through his brain as he tries to piece together a coherent story with this new information. Maybe he should ask Seijun for help. Yes, Seijun. He’d come to Kouya’s assistance for this, if only because he _really_ adores Marume- _senpai_ and wants to know more about him.

(Damn, though, why does thinking about how Seijun presents himself, _unashamedly_ , as Marume- _senpai_ ’s #1 fan make Kouya’s chest hurt? Maybe Kouya should stop working for a bit and eat something.)

“And sometimes _I_ wonder where the hell Yuyama’s ears are, but you can’t have everything.” Enjouji quips, yawning, shifting to rest his head on his arms like Kouya often sees Enjouji’s friend – Akizuki, the first year Enjouji did the duet with – doing. “Anyway, yeah, _that_ was pretty much the most interesting thing we had all week.”

“Thanks!” Kouya pipes up, cheerily, before realizing what Enjouji just said. “By Yuyama – you mean _Seijun_ –?”

Enjouji raises an eyebrow at him. “Second-year, taller than you, funny haircut? Who else could I be referring to?”

“ _You’re_ not one to be lecturing Seijun on having a funny haircut, Enjouji-kun.” Kouya says, not too unkindly, looking at the lone streak of grey in Enjouji’s otherwise-fire-engine-red hair. It was a mystery he’d tried unraveling sometime in first year, only then Enjouji oh-so-kindly put him aside and said that if he ever saw Kouya rifling through his locker (read: Mendaco’s March stash) ever again, well, he was _dead meat_.

(Come to think of it, Kouya _really_ should’ve seen the S-mode tendencies coming by then.)

“Well, at least _I’ve_ got ears to speak of,” Enjouji says, the corners of his lips quirking as he points it out. “Have you seriously never seen Yuyama’s ears before, either? Even when you’re spending _so_ much time together?”

And that, really, _that_ was what drove Kouya to do exactly what he did, as crazy as it sounds. It’s what drives Kouya to muster up a straw and the rest of his courage, and –

“Kouya.”

“Mm?”

“Please, for the love of god, stop blowing at my hair.” Seijun says, his cool voice unruffled save for when it had drawled out Kouya’s name. “Eugh, you’re even getting _spit_ in it, the hell are you even up to.”

“You wouldn’t _understand_ , Seijun.” Kouya croons, edging closer into Seijun’s personal space than anyone else would dare to. “It’s for an experiment.”

“An _experiment_.” Seijun parrots, dumbly, all the while trying to get Kouya off his person in as little movements as possible. “You expect _me_ to believe _that_? Aren’t you just trying to get on my nerves as usual?”

“Aw, don’t be like that, Seijun,” Kouya says, both his arms around his friend’s neck this time, a normal squeezing hug if not for how one of his hands inch closer and closer to where he knows human ears – Seijun’s ears – are supposed to be. “You _know_ you love me!”

Seijun stops Kouya’s hand from hovering near the top of his neck with his fingers wrapped around Kouya’s wrist, and looks at him, just _looks_ at him, with those piercing eyes peering straight down into Kouya’s soul. Kouya goes frozen, swallows, and watches rather than feels his own grip on his friend’s shoulders go slack.

“Yeah, and who knows why I even bother,” is what he says, before turning back to give his records their proper attention.

Kouya feels...like he’s just _lost_ , for some reason.

* * *

 

**February 14, 18:35**

 

He wolf-whistles when he sees Seijun lingering in the shoe lockers more than usual, a bright pink envelope dangling from his fingers, just about the exact same hue of Kouya’s hair, if but a few shades brighter.

“ _Someone’s_ popular,” Kouya says, somehow wrangling an arm around Seijun’s shoulder without as much as a by-your-leave. (He gets an elbow to the gut, for all his trouble.) “Might the lovely lady be someone we know?”

“Beats me. Whoever it is didn’t even sign their name.”

“But you _wanted_ them to, Seijun?”

“I wanted to lecture them on their _grammar_ , more like.” Seijun deadpans, with the slight quirk to his lips that tells Kouya he isn’t at all being serious. “Get off my case, Kouya. Surely someone like you has got more of these on his plate than I do.”

“Ha! When you’re as _popular_ as I am, this is _nothing_ ,” Kouya quips breezily, disentangling himself from Seijun to toss the small bag of letters and chocolates over his shoulder. “Seijun, I can split the haul with you, if you want.”

“Thanks, but no thanks.” Seijun says, nonplussed as ever, taking a plain box out from his bag. He takes a chocolate truffle out of it and wraps his lips around it – mint chocolate, if the drizzled color on top was any indication, and _no_ Kouya did _not_ see this because he’d been paying attention to his friend’s _lips_ of all things, because that would just be _so_ damned weird and also _creepy_. Even if his eyes can’t help but follow the way Seijun’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. _The hell, Ashihara, the hell_.

“Kaoru gave me a bunch of sweets off his own stash to thank me for bringing him to the dessert buffet I reviewed the other day.” he says, answering Kouya’s unspoken question, and frowns at the look on his friend’s face. “Don’t look at me like that. You were busy with President’s Board duties that day, weren’t you?”

“I could’ve just _skipped_ if you’d asked,” Kouya grouses, trying to not sound so distraught, and failing.

“I am _not_ gonna be the reason why Akika- _senpai_ and Ichijodani- _senpai_ kick you out of there.” Seijun says, squinting at his friend’s face. Kouya doesn’t see it from this angle but there’s another truffle in Seijun’s hands right now, and he’s mulling it over, considering its weight. He sighs. “Kouya. Look here.”

If Kouya goes all wide-eyed and pink-cheeked then, he chalks it up to the shock of having one mid-sized _extremely delicious_ chocolate truffle filled with strawberry jam shoved into one’s mouth without warning, because there is _no_ reason for him to be reacting this way to the sensation of Seijun’s fingers pushing the sweet through Kouya’s lips, as warm as they may feel.

“Your verdict?”

“It did taste good,” Kouya admits, watching numbly as Seijun mindlessly licks his fingers clean of melting chocolate. (Their life is _not_ a _shoujo manga_. Kouya will _not_ count that as an indirect kiss.) “But I don’t see why that was necessary.”

Seijun looks almost _affronted_ , if that was even possible, and rolls his eyes. “Since when did _you_ care about what was _necessary_ , Kouya?”

Come to think of it, the hell, Seijun’s completely right. Because when Kouya came up with the (genius) plan of planting a sappy love letter (crafted with all the details he’d gotten out of Nanao’s admittedly impressive _shoujo manga_ collection) into Seijun’s locker, he didn’t have to also take out all the other genuine glittery-teal envelopes in there all addressed “ _to Yuyama-kun_ ”. It wasn’t even necessary for him to pen a fake letter, if all he needed to know was what Seijun’s surprised face would look like when faced with a confession of love.

It wasn’t necessary, but he did it anyway, and – in Seijun’s own words, not so long ago – _why does he even bother?_

“If this is your way of making things up to me,” Kouya harrumphs, walking off as if his heart wasn’t pounding madly in his chest, “Then you should know that wasn’t enough. The next time you go off to review that place, it’s me or _no one_.”

It’s because they’re broadcasting partners and _really_ , they should be going on these scoops together. Not because, for some reason, imagining Seijun laughing over sweets with Narugo, imagining Seijun reading some other person’s honest-to-goodness words of love, kinda ticks Kouya off.

“Yes, yes, Kouya- _sama_ ,” Seijun drawls, a healthy dosage of snark in his tone, but he falls into step with him anyway.

* * *

 

**March 3, 12:15**

 

“Kouya, the hell are you up to this time.” It’s phrased like a question but comes out sounding like a sigh – normal protocol for someone all too used to Kouya Ashihara’s nonsense.

“It’s a social experiment,” Kouya says, leaning across the table they share, some parts of him moving more noticeably than others. To be exact – the pair of cushions he’d shoved down his shirt. “To see if people really would react to me differently if I were a girl.”

“And you thought that shoving that down your chest would make people see you as a girl, even when every other part of you looks the same as always.” Seijun sighs. Kouya’s still wearing the normal Tensho Academy male uniform, even if the slim line of his physique had since been marred by the cushions, making their presence against Kouya’s chest _aggressively_ known. “Huh. You look the same as always to me. If but a little more stupid than usual.”

“Sei- _juuuuuuunnnn_.” Kouya trills, drawing out the second syllable of Seijun’s name longer than he has a right to. His one eyebrow is raised and really, that look on Kouya’s face would probably have been properly termed as a _smolder_ on some other person, someone who wasn’t an obviously awkward young man with obviously fake D-cups hanging down his poor overworked sweater. “Do you _really_ think that?”

“Of course I do. Why would I ever think that you look anything other than stupid right now?”

“’Cuz, when we were doing that talk with the Japanese Research Club, and Shido-kun suddenly begun talking about... _some_ things...” Kouya trails off, flushing a bit pinker as he makes hesitant, awkward hand gestures at around the vague generality of his chest and the stuffing it currently sports, a complete one-eighty from his casual manner earlier. “And, and you said that you quite _liked_ ‘em...y’know, _big_.”

“I _do_ ,” Seijun says, without even batting an eyelash, “But not on _you_.”

(What Seijun _doesn’t_ say, though: _I don’t really have a preference. Just wanted to see how pink your cheeks would’ve gone if I said I did. Whaddya know, you were just a shade shy of Mon-tan._ The thought almost makes him smile.)

“Oh,” Kouya trails off, his voice a bit uncertain, for some reason.

“Yes, exactly.” Seijun says, nodding, although he’s still a bit unsure as to what _exactly_ Kouya is mulling over right now. And who could blame him? For all his easy cheerfulness, and predictable constancy, Kouya’s sometimes been a pretty hard guy to read. “ _Oh_.”

They spend the next few minutes of their shared meal in silence, Kouya sometimes taking moments out of his eating to look at his borrowed pair of endowments and frown at them. They...are admittedly quite impressive, and if only Seijun were some lesser man and Kouya weren’t...well, _Kouya_ , Seijun would’ve found himself as distracted as Kouya was, probably. _Maybe_. There’s really no way for him to make sure.

“Did you get any good reactions yet?” Seijun quips instead, keeping his gaze calm and even when Kouya looks back at him, even _when_ Kouya ends up making some weird strangled noise and ends up using his extra fluff as a rather convoluted kind of armrest.

“Well, I ran into Shido-kun when I was on my way to class this morning,”

“And?”

“He told me something along the lines of ‘ _please leave me here, I can die happily knowing that I’ve seen heaven_ ’, so I just left him there to bleed all over the hallway.”

“ _Kouya_.”

“What? I was running late, okay?” Kouya blurts out, with conviction, like he was in a debate and Seijun was his fiercest opposition. “And ‘sides, the last I saw of him, Iimori-kun was cleaning up after him and muttering something about how Shido-kun should’ve made his life easier and let his nose bleed over the sink instead. When I passed by again the floor was _spotlessly_ clean.”

“That’s the Beautification Club for you. Anyone else?”

“When I handed some papers over to Mitsuki- _senpai_ , he did that little chuckle-thing he does sometimes, and he said that whatever I was planning, he wished me luck. Mitsutsuka-kun just looked really _confused_...and Enjouji-kun looked like he wanted to say something, but he...didn’t say anything. At all. Uozu-kun just told me he wanted no part of this –“ Kouya’s eyes brighten, and he looks back at Seijun with renewed interest. “Hey, does that mean he doesn’t really like being around girls, then? Since I’d heard that he doesn’t really care for Kiyosu- _senpai_ and Hanakuma- _senpai_ ’s regular _nanpa_ sessions...”

“I...don’t think so. It’s not that easy to us to say.” _Maybe he just doesn’t want a part in your stupidity. But then again Uozu’s always been quite a hard guy to read, too._ “Anyway, I think that’s enough data for you to get your answer now, don’t you think?”

“What do you mean, Seijun? But I don’t think that amounted to anything, I mean, they didn’t even _say_ anything about it –”

“They aren’t treating you differently because you’re a girl, or trying your hand at posing as one,” Seijun says, enunciating his words by piling on the vegetables from his lunch on top of Kouya’s bowl of rice, “They treat you differently because you’re _Kouya_. Well. Save for Shido-kun, I guess, but he’s always been kind of an outlier. ”

“Really? But I haven’t really noticed something out of the ordinary in the way they’ve been treating me...”

“...oh, but there’s definitely _something_.” Seijun says, smirking. “Because, when you pull something like this, we don’t _immediately_ assume that you’ve lost your mind. Even if it sure as _hell_ seems like you have.”

“ _Seijun_ , don’t be _mean_!”

“I’m not, you brat. Just honest.” Seijun says, capping off his words with something that could almost be called a _smile_. “It’s different when it comes to you ‘cuz we know you tend to take your experiments seriously. _That’s_ why nobody else is saying anything about it.”

“Well, why are _you_ saying something about it, then?”

“Hey, you asked me, didn’t you?” Seijun shrugs, and Kouya frowns, mulls that over for the rest of lunch break.

It’s almost time for class when they walk back from the cafeteria. Kouya takes both the offending appendages in his arms and frowns at them, saying, “Argh, _heavy_. They’re more trouble than they’re worth. I think what I’ve come away from this is that girls have it harder than we do.”

“It took you _this_ along to notice that?” Seijun says, quirking an eyebrow at his friend, before looking at him, _really_ looking, and taking a step back. “Wait a sec.”

His hand reaches up of its own volition, and before either of them know it, the elastic tying most of Kouya’s hair back is out of its ponytail and tangled around Seijun’s fingers.

“ _Seijuuuuuuuunnnnn, what was **that** for?_ ”

Seijun takes another step back, and considers.

With his bubblegum-pink hair framing his face and curling around the tops of his artificial chest like that, thin lips pursed and big teal-green eyes looking at him morosely, Kouya could almost probably pass for a girl. _Probably_. _If_ he finds some way to cover up that Adam’s apple of his. Maybe he could button his collar over it?

(But, for some reason he can’t _really_ decipher, himself, Seijun thinks that things still wouldn’t change if this were his reality, because – because no matter the gender, Kouya would still be the usual annoying Kouya he’s known. Not that he’d tell him anything about this, though.)

“Huh. That’s surprising. You don’t look _completely_ stupid.” Seijun eventually says, hiding his mouth behind a hand as he walks away.

“Seijun –“ Kouya starts. Stops. Ends up running after him. _”Sei-jun_ , don’t just say something like that and _leave_ , you’re being _rude!!!_ ”

* * *

 

**April 19, 16:55**

 

“No.”

“But _Seijun_ –”

“I said _no_.” Seijun says, fixing a glare on Kouya and his peace sign as if his existence itself was an affront to all propriety and good taste. “ _No_ , Kouya, I am not uploading a picture of you to my food blog, and that is _final_.”

“Aw, but _whyyyy??_ ” Kouya whines, setting his head down on the table, and Seijun almost _winces_ seeing how close his friend’s head had been to engaging in an impromptu _shoyu_ broth bath. “Famous bloggers take pictures of their friends _all the time_ , right? And, ‘sides, wouldn’t _you_ like to be seen with your famous friend!?”

“My blog has around two thousand followers and I don’t want any of them to have to be subjected to that face of yours. I already suffer through seeing it on a daily basis. I wouldn’t like them to share the pain.” Seijun says, his chopsticks poking around in the broth of his own _ramen_ bowl, pretending to be unmindful of Kouya’s impromptu interpretation of a strangled elephant’s noises. “Hey, d’you want to eat this?”

“I can’t see how you’ve reviewed places like this without me,” Kouya says, _magnanimously_ , as he watches Seijun pile up vegetables in the small bowl Kouya pushes his direction. “When you really don’t like bitter veggies _that_ much.”

“The things I do for good taste,” Seijun sighs, as Kouya sniggers at him. “Some places don’t make these things turn out so _bitter_ , though. I guess it just depends on who’s cooking it.”

“Probably,” Kouya concedes, digging into his own bowl with so much _relish_ that Seijun’s almost tempted to take out his camera and take a picture. Almost.

Because, truth be told – taking photos of people for his food blog really isn’t Seijun’s style.

( _Taking people with him_ to his usual _ramen_ haunts isn’t his style, either.)

But there’s just _something_ about Kouya that makes it feel as if all the pictures anyone would be ever able to take would never be enough to put him into retrospective. Because – because that’s just how Kouya _is_ , something larger than life and greater than anything Seijun could ever think of, unfailing magneticism and annoying charm rolled up into one irritatingly cheerful presence.

And despite how _irritating_ it had been when Kouya started insisting Seijun should post pictures of him to boost Kouya’s fledgling popularity, how _annoyed_ Seijun had felt when Kouya didn’t even notice anything _different_ about the quality of the _ramen_ , he still thinks –

 _Seijun_ still thinks –

He still thinks about the brightness of Kouya’s smile when they’d met outside the _ramen-ya_ ’s curtains, how Kouya’s eyes had _shone_ in the first place when Seijun asked him to accompany him in the first place, and now all he could think about right now is _well, we could probably make a habit out of this_.

Kouya’s still smiling after Seijun puts down the camera. “What, Seijun. Finally decided to improve your blog content by writing about my _esteemed_ presence, after all?”

“Nah, not exactly.” Seijun says, as nonchalantly as one would about the weather. “I just wanted to keep a picture of you with broth splashed around your mouth. Y’know. For posterity.”

“What do you mean – _Seijun!_ Ugh, no, if you consider me a friend, _don’t post that!!!_ ”

Seijun ends up not posting it, but not because Kouya asked him to.

It’s because there was _something_ about the smile Kouya had given Seijun’s camera lens – _something_ other than the undeterminable _something_ Kouya had always been – _something_ that shot right through Seijun’s chest and made him come to terms to something that _really_ , he should’ve seen coming the entire time.

 _Now, though,_ he thinks, lying in his bed that night, _what should I do with this information?_

Seijun’s eyes eventually lock on his mobile phone.

He’s tempted to type off something, send it off, and be done with it, but – no. He thinks he’ll just save these words for next time.

* * *

 

**May 5, 00:30**

What the –

No, _seriously_ –

Kouya’s been asked about this kind of situation countless times (or, well, maybe third-year T-san, whoever he is, kept on sending frantic e-mails about wanting a girlfriend and Kouya kept blushing through each and every friggin’ one of them, while Seijun smirked magnanimously in the background and didn’t even give him any help, the nerve of him, the _audacity_ ) but honestly, _honestly_!? He has _no idea_ what he’s supposed to do when things turn out like this.

But that doesn’t change anything, not really. Doesn’t change anything about the fact that his Vice President, his late-night-phone-call buddy, his hypothetical zombie-apocalypse partner, just about his _bestest_ friend in the entire damned world, just left a friggin’ _love letter_ in Kouya’s e-mail, and now he’s probably asleep and Kouya’s _frantic_ and doesn’t really know what he’s supposed to do.

Because, truth be told, if this came from someone else, _anyone_ else, the first thing Kouya would probably do is pester Seijun relentlessly with mails until he eventually wakes up and allows Kouya to babble at him for the next few hours about how he _isn’t_ looking for a relationship and _really_ , how can Kouya even juggle having a significant other _and_ ensuring that their broadcasts always get the freshest and most relatable scoops? But –

But really – when it all comes down to it – if anyone asked him where he’d rather be, _who_ he’d rather be with, in any other given moment – the answer he’d give would most probably be ‘ _Broadcasting Club room, with Seijun lingering somewhere nearby_ ’, right?

Agh, this is just too much, _way_ too much, for him to be processing at one o’clock in the freaking morning.

But that’s not what’s important here. The important thing is – _is_ – well, neither of them is ever gonna be alone again, huh? Not if Kouya has anything to say about it.

But – but what _does_ Kouya have to say about it, _exactly_? _Tomorrow_ , Kouya thinks, _he gave me all day tomorrow,_ _I’ll figure this all out when I wake up_.

One thing’s for sure, though – the first time he sees Seijun tomorrow, Kouya’s gonna hug him. Everyone else in attendance be damned.

And, well, after he’s done with that, he’ll pull him off to the side, and say...

...well, what _is_ he gonna say? He really doesn’t know, not now. But then again, Kouya’s always thought that extemporaneous speech was one of his many specialties.

He’s still going to give Seijun that email come August, though, even if by then he’d just be rehashing things that Seijun would already know. What can he say. Kouya’s a _media man_.

He’s _always_ believed in complete disclosure.

* * *

 

**May 5, 18:01**

“Stop _smiling_ at me like that, it’s annoying.”

“Aw, but you _really_ don’t think that, do you?” Kouya says, entangling his fingers with Seijun’s as they make their way down the empty hallway. “’Cuz you love me and all.”

“Yes, heaven help me, I _do_ , but it changes nothing about the fact that I _still_ think your smile is annoying as hell.” Seijun replies, not even batting an eyelash. Kouya could only wish he could say something like that half as coolly as Seijun does, he thinks as he squeezes Seijun’s hand in his. ” _Stop doing that._ ”

“But why would I stop smiling? I mean, today’s been a good day. My classmates got me cake. Washiho- _sensei_ even had them sing me the birthday song. Mitsutsuka-kun was so good at leading them. Enjouji-kun even got _so_ into it, I guess that was because we all split the cake and he really seems to like chocolate, though. Mitsuki- _senpai_ said that he has some new stories lined up for us if ever we needed new news topics. And then there’s you.”

“Me?”

“You’re _here_ ,” By _god_ , Kouya is so hyperaware of the fact that he sounds like a cliché _shoujo manga_ character. “And normally I’d be happy with just that, but...”

Kouya _looks_ at Seijun, the same way he’d seen Seijun look his way, before. Seijun _gulps_.

“Today, I think I’ll be making an exception.”

...

...

Later that afternoon:

“Oh!” Kouya blurts out, his eyes growing even _brighter_ , if that was even possible.

“So you _do_ have ears!”

“ _Of course_ I have ears, Kouya, why wouldn’t I have them?” Seijun says, or at least that’s what he’s _trying_ to say, under all his muffled laughter.

(Turns out Seijun grows out his hair so no one would ever have to know that his ears are _extremely ticklish_. Well, who would’ve known? No one else, _ever_ , if Kouya has anything to say about it.)

“That’s _cute_ , Seijun. Like, _super-duper_ cute. I thought you were cute _before_ , what with all the little habits and the Marume- _senpai_ fanboying tendencies, but aghh, seeing you laugh like this is _so_ cute, it’s _unfair_ –!”

“Shut up, Kouya,” Seijun protests, half-heartedly, still coming down from the aftermath of all the damned _tickling,_ as Kouya’s forehead rests against his. “Just – can you _please_ , for once in your life, just _shut up_ –“

“I like you, Seijun.” There it is, now he’s said it. “A _lot_ , really. I’d use the other word but I think I’ll be saving it for August, so at least I’ll be able to type out _one thing_ that I hadn’t told you already. I know we’re young and all but I also know that wherever I’ll go I’ll always choose a place which has more than enough room for you and your _obsessively organized_ record collection. I know I’ll always go out to eat _ramen_ with you every Sunday, if only so you’ll be able to finally figure out which one of those is your forever favorite.”

“And – and I’m totally game for staying side-by-side with you, smiling and laughing together with you, all of that, as your friend and more-than-friend and anything else in between, and you’ll never have to think about sad stuff like never seeing me again ‘cuz I’ll _always be there_ , that is, um, if you want me to.” Kouya takes a deep breath, looks up at Seijun’s eyes, just a shade or two darker than Kouya’s hair. Just like how Kouya’s eyes were a shade darker than Seijun’s hair, in turn. Sometime when he first met Seijun, Kouya had found himself thinking if this was a sign from the heavens that they were meant to be paired off somehow. “That _is_ what you meant, right? When you said –“

“ _Oh_ , for the love of god, _just stop talking_ ,” Seijun says, leans forward, and despite his tone of voice, Kouya could feel his smile brush against Kouya’s cheek.

“And, by the way,”

“Huh?”

“My record collection is not ‘ _obsessively organized’_ ,” Seijun says, making air quotes with his fingers. “Stop making me sound like Ichijodani- _senpai_.”

“It _is_ , though? I mean, as far as those are concerned, you could _totally_ be a part of the Beautification Club, y’know.”

“Come to think of it, maybe I should.” Seijun says, the corner of his lips barely quirking upward. “Let’s see how _you’ll_ handle being a one-man Broadcasting Club then, Kouya.”

Realization finally strikes Kouya, _hard_ , like a battering ram or something else as painful, because _suddenly_ he’s lunging for Seijun and somehow ends up flailing with his arms around the other man’s shoulders. “What the – _Seijun I already said you weren’t allowed to leave me behind!!_ ”

Kouya’s _wailing_ and the high pitch of his voice is _seriously_ doing a number on Seijun’s eardrums, but he’s here and he’s warm and hell, he’s the guy Seijun fell for, the guy who’d said all that sap in response and _actually did mean it_ , and, well.

Well. Seijun doesn’t think he’ll ever exchange this for anything else in the entire world.

“Yeah, I think I caught that, thanks for reminding me.” Seijun says, chuckling a bit as he ruffles Kouya’s hair. Kouya, on the other hand, is still clinging on to him, and seems to have progressed to doing dying elephant noises. Seijun should hate himself for still thinking he sounds _cute_ like that. “Happy birthday, you damned _brat_.”

**Author's Note:**

> By the way: [this](http://actorsmusic.jp/character/chara_17.html) is Kouya. [This](http://actorsmusic.jp/character/chara_18.html) is Seijun. Their other friends and associates can be seen on the same website; notable ones include Mitsuki, the brunette with the hair swept over one eye; Chiguma, the green haired guy also with hair covering one eye; Kaoru, the guy with the long black ponytail, and Mike (Enjouji), the redhead I use as my profile picture pretty much everywhere.
> 
> The seemingly nonsensical title came from a line in the song I quoted above, Jason Chen’s “Best Friend”. I am also barely feeling my way through this ship – feeling my way through writing ACTORS fic _in general_ – so please forgive me for any inconsistencies that may arise.  (To nobody’s surprise at all, the only ACTORS character who I think I can write with any amount of confidence right now is _Mike Enjouji_.)
> 
> Basically – there is really no plot to this. I just set this up to make poor Kouya flustered a lot. That’s all. Dates and timestamps arbitrary for the most part, save for Valentine's Day and Kouya's birthday.
> 
> Also: this is a really long response to yoru-no-hikari’s own Kouya birthday fic. Bless you, friend. I even ended up _quoting the title of the said fic,_ damn, I didn’t even recall what the title was when I typed the end part out!
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading through this... _surprisingly long_ fic of mine. Hope you liked it!
> 
>  


End file.
